A BUSKS  OF  THE  IMAGINATION". 


A 


BACCALAUREATE  DISCOURSE, 


DELIVERED  AT 


DARTMOUTH  COLLEGE, 

JULY  15,  1866. 


BY  ASA  D.  SMITH, 

PRESIDENT. 


HANOVER,  N.  H. : 

PRINTED  AT  THE  DARTMOUTH  PRESS. 

1866. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/abusesofimaginatOOsmit 


DISCOURSE. 


ROMANS  1 : 21. 

“BUT  BECAME  VAIN  IN  THEIR  IMAGINATIONS.” 

For  the  truly  Christian  student,  intent  upon  the 
highest  self-culture,  it  is  not  enough  that  any  science 
be  mastered  — above  all,  the  science  of  mind  — in  its 
merely  intellectual  aspects.  He  seeks  to  know  him- 
self, that  he  may  govern,  in  a moral  sense,  and  so 
duly  exalt  himself.  He  cons  every  faculty  within 
him,  from  perception,  in  its  lowly  office,  watching 
at  every  gateway  of  sense,  up  to  reason,  with  its 
eagle  eye  and  its  heavenward  flight,  that  he  may 
" bring  every  thought  into  captivity  to  the  obedience 
of  Christ.”  And  the  more  important  any  faculty, 
the  more  marvellous  and  potent  in  its  operations, 
the  more  helpful  or  hurtful  in  its  possible  relations 
to  his  spiritual  well-being,  the  more  carefully  does 
he  consider  those  relations,  the  more  diligently  does 
he  inquire  for  the  good  to  be  attained  or  the  evil  to 
be  shunned. 

Of  great  moment,  in  this  view,  is  the  particular 
power  suggested  by  the  text.  I say  suggested;  for 
I have  not  been  so  careless  of  the  Greek  original  as 
not  to  know,  that  the  Sialoyiapoi  there  spoken  of  may 
be  taken  in  a very  broad  sense.  The  word  may  in- 


elude,  doubtless,  all  thoughts,  reasonings,  theories 
opinions*  doctrines.  Yet  a glance  at  the  context,  as 
well  as  the  history  of  the  nations  referred  to,  shows 
that  the  imagination  is  largely  if  not  mainly  intended. 
How  in  all  heathendom  was  that  perverted  and  de- 
based, and  what  a perverting  and  debasing  power  was 
it.  In  the  very  next  sentence,  we  have  its  crowning 
feat,  the  changing  of  " the  glory  of  the  incorruptible 
God  into  an  image  made  like  to  corruptible  man, 
and  to  birds  and  four-footed  beasts  and  creeping 
things.”  Well  might  it  be  prominent  in  the  Apos- 
tle’s thought  — in  the  substance  and  scope  of  it,  we 
say  not  in  any  nicely  metaphysical  view.  And  well 
may  it  be  prominent  in  ours.  As  to  both  time  and 
space,  how  illimitable  is  it,  glancing  ” from  heaven  to 
earth,  from  earth  to  heaven,”  possessing  that  whole 
threefold  sphere  of  intellection,  the  past,  the  present 
and  the  future.  Other  powers  are  simply  cognitive, 
taking  things  as  they  are,  adding  not  a cubit  to 
their  stature,  making  not  a hair  white  or  black.  The 
imagination  is  creative.  Pre-eminently,  in  this  re- 
gard, it  assimilates  us  to  the  Infinite.  As  he  forms 
actual  worlds,  so  does  it  fashion  ideal  ones.  As  out  of 
chaos  he  shaped  this  goodly  frame  of  nature,  so  out 
of  pre-existing  materials,  such  as  thought  and  feel- 
ing have  produced,  and  such  as  recollection  repro- 
duces, it  moulds  to  its  own  liking  innumerable  fab- 
rics of  beauty  or  deformity.  Like  God,  too,  it  re- 
creates. It  touches  with  new  tints  memory’s  pic- 


tures  of  the  past.  It  throws  its  own  veil  of  gloom 
or  of  glory  over  the  present,  transforming,  for  bet- 
ter or  for  worse,  whatever  it  looks  on.  It  shapes 
and  peoples,  too,  the  future  ; and  it  fills  the  deep 
abysses  and  the  lofty  heights  and  all  the  far-off  re- 
gions of  the  universe  — dark  solitudes  to  the  eye  of 
reason  — with  forms  and  facts  and  scenes  suited  to 
its  own  moods.  Nor  is  it  of  a specialty  we  speak  ; 
but,  as  it  pertains  to  human  nature,  of  a common 
endowment.  Though  in  different  degrees,  it  is 
mighty  in  all,  from  the  peasant  to  the  poet,  from  the 
child  with  his  marvellous  nursery  stories  — some  of 
them,  in  all  their  simplicity,  embracing  great  princi- 
ples and  profound  philosophies  — to  the  old  man 
eloquent.  This  faculty  is  the  more  important  in 
a Christian  view  from  the  fact,  variously  hinted 
already,  of  its  intimate  relations  to  the  affectional 
and  moral  nature.  It  is  a sort  of  internuncius  or 
mediator  between  the  sensuous  and  the  spiritual, 
moulding  the  former  by  the  force  of  the  great  and 
all-pervading  intuitions,  and  bearing  back  mighty 
embodiments.  It  works  at  the  bidding  of  the  heart, 
with  a plastic  power  which  that  largely  furnishes, 
and  with  a potent  reaction,  the  refluent  tide  being 
greater  than  even  the  outflow.  Of  all  our  intellec- 
tual faculties,  not  one  can  be  compared  with  it  for 
subtilty  and  power,  whether  as  a minister  of  sin,  or 
a helper  of  holiness.  Nay,  creeds  have  come  of  it  — 
philosophies  and  theologies  of  world- wide  notoriety. 


6 


It  will  not  seem  strange  that,  on  such  an  occasion 
and  in  such  a presence,  a faculty  so  related  should 
form  the  subject  of  discourse.  While  we  shall  find 
in  it  profitable  lessons  for  every  hearer,  it  is  of  special 
interest  to  the  young,  and  to  those,  above  all,  who, 
in  the  spirit  of  true  scholarship,  are  endeavoring  to 
make  the  most  of  their  whole  intellectual  being. 
Let  me  speak,  then  — making  the  darker  views 
prominent,  that  the  brighter  may  be  the  better  ap- 
preciated— of  the  Abuses  of  the  Imagination. 
I shall  take  notice,  in  what  I trust  will  prove  an  ex- 
haustive method,  of  its  defilements , its  excesses , and 
its  usurpations . 

We  are  to  consider,  first,  its  defilements . Alas 
that,  by  reason  of  the  great  lapse,  we  must  present 
such  a power  in  such  an  aspect.  It  was  designed 
by  the  Creator  not  to  pollute  the  fair  inner  world, 
but  to  beautify  — to  make  it  more  and  more  like 
the  Eden  without.  Not  only  the  notes  of  birds 
were  to  be  heard  there,  and  the  sound  of  gentle 
zephyrs,  and  of  musically  flowing  rivers,  but  angelic 
voices,  and  even  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God  himself, 
walking  not  in  anger  but  in  love  amid  the  trees  of 
the  garden.  But  sin  entered,  making  imagination 
its  handmaid,  and  the  harpies  followed  — nay,  the 
fiends.  Over  the  fairest  flowerets  was  seen  the  trail 
of  the  serpent.  There  w'as  blasting  and  mildew  and 
all  loathsomeness,  for  beauty.  As  heaven’s  own 
galleries,  to  change  the  figure,  God  designed  the 


chambers  of  the  soul.  They  were  to  be  hung  with 
pictures  of  exquisite  finish,  embodiments  of  reason’s 
great  ideals  ; such  pictures  as  should  not  only  thrill 
but  purify  the  heart,  calling  forth  high  aspiration 
and  mighty  endeavor.  Given  over  to  a perverted 
imagination,  they  are  as  the  very  galleries  of  the 
pit  — a pandemonium  of  art.  To  enter  is  to  be  in 
peril  — to  gaze  is  to  be  lost  ! 

Do  we  exaggerate,  or  are  these  the  words  of  truth 
and  soberness  ? Bear  in  mind  the  almost  invariable 
process  of  temptation.  The  heart  seldom  yields  on 
a bare  suggestion.  True,  there  are  some  superser- 
viceable  devotees  of  evil,  so  hackneyed  in  all  its 
forms,  that,  more  senseless  than  the  fishes,  they  are 
content  with  the  bare  hook.  It  requires  no  glitter- 
ing fancy  to  catch  them.  They  are  the  devil’s  vol- 
unteers, serving  without  pay.  But  ordinarily  there 
must  not  only  be  a motive,  it  must  be  attractively 
imaged.  There  must  be,  for  the  fullest  effect,  pic- 
torial illustration.  Especially  is  it  so  where  habits 
of  virtue  are  not  wholly  uprooted.  Suppose  now  a 
case  of  this  sort.  Quietly  steals  over  the  soul  the 
hint  of  evil.  " Here  is  unlawful  gain  to  be  got;”  or 
” Here  is  distinction  to  be  basely  won or,  " Here 
is  forbidden  pleasure  to  be  enjoyed.”  The  object 
proposed  is  only  in  the  outline,  too  shadowy  to 
overcome  the  lingering  sense  of  sin  and  its  conse- 
quences. But  now  intervenes  a partially  debauched 
imagination,  producing  her  private  album  — as,  in 


8 


a literal  sense,  bad  pictures  are  sometimes  slyly 
brought  forth.  w See  here,”  she  says,  " the  houses, 
the  lands,  the  purple  and  fine  linen,  the  social  con- 
sequence, the  varied  enjoyments  that  the  proffered 
gold  will  secure.”  " See  here  the  civic  eminence  to 
be  gained,  the  robe  of  office,  the  chair  of  State,  the 
obsequious  crowd.”  w See  here,  as  I have  limned  it, 
the  gay  revel  and  the  still  more  voluptuous  scene.” 
Desire,  faint  before,  is  kindled  now — the  tinder,  so 
skillfully  supplied,  burns  apace.  So  the  devil’s  pic- 
tures, aided  by  the.  blushing  apple,  won  our  mother 
Eve.  So  wrought  upon  the  fancy  of  Achan,  the 
wedge  of  gold  and  the  Babylonish  garment.  So, 
first  by  covetous  and  then  by  remorseful  and  des- 
perate imaginings  — for  when  the  bright  pictures 
have  done  their  work,  the  dark  are  apt  to  follow  — 
was  Judas  hurried  to  his  own  place.  So  is  the  work 
of  moral  ruin  constantly  accomplished. 

What  now  if  the  imagination  be  not  partially,  but 
altogether  defiled  and  defiling  ? A wonderful 
painter  is  it  — the  oldest  master  the  world  knows. 
A busy  worker,  too,  able  to  say,  with  truth,  " Nulla 
dies,  sine  lines.”  At  home  and  abroad,  in  business 
and  in  leisure,,  by  day  and  by  night,  even  in  dreams, 
the  work  goes  on.  With  touch  upon  touch,  with 
picture  upon  picture,  all  ministering  to  evil,  the 
halls  of  fancy  are  covered  and  crowded.  Many  a 
man’s  mind,  if  you  could  but  enter  it,  would  seem 
to  you  like  some  of  the  chambers  in  buried  Hercu- 


laneum,  or  like  such  art  galleries  as  one  might  have 
looked  for  in  the  cities  of  the  plain.  Were  he  turn- 
ed inside  out,  all  good  souls  would  flee  from  him,  as 
from  some  odious  and  noxious  thing.  It  is  a won- 
der, in  such  cases,  that  the  pent  up  evil  breaks  not 
out  more  frequently  ; it  would,  but  for  the  various 
restraints  of  a Christian  civilization.  Even  with 
these,  forced  as  the  soul  is  to  commune  with  itself, 
compelled  to  gaze  upon  all  polluting  portraitures, 
and  delighting  in  them,  it  must  needs  grow  worse 
and  worse,  and  be  more  and  more  at  the  mercy  of 
every  opportune  temptation.  The  evil  is  the  great- 
er from  the  fact,  that  these  pictures,  especially  in 
the  youthful  mind,  are  painted  in  fast  colors.  They 
are  held  to  its  walls  by  rivets  of  steel.  Even  when 
grace  gains  the  victory,  they  hang  there  still.  The 
bitterest  tears  of  penitence  efface  them  not  utterly. 
By  stern  resolve,  the  gaze  of  the  soul  may  be  main- 
ly averted  ; yet  there  is  a fascination  about  them 
like  that  of  the  serpent’s  eye  - — there  will  be  furtive 
glances  still.  And  their  whole  history,  down  to  old 
age,  assures  us,  that  a young  man  can  bear  out  into 
life  no  greater  blessing  than  a sanctified  imagina- 
tion, no  greater  curse  than  an  imagination  defiled. 

We  pass,  next,  to  consider  what  we  have  termed 
the  excesses  of  the  imagination.  With  this  faculty, 
as  with  every  other,  while  there  are  errors  in  kind  — 
things  essentially  wrong,  and  so  hurtful  ever  — * 
there  are  sins,  also,  of  degree.  It  may  be  exercised 


10 


about  innocent  tilings,  and  in  innocent  methods,  yet 
in  a disproportion  no  less  injurious  morally  and 
spiritually,  than  intellectually.  !Not  that  we  would 
reduce  it  ever  to  a timid  and  craven  mood.  We 
would  nurture  and  cherish  it  rather.  We  would 
Unloose  its  pinions,  and  bid  it  plume  them  for  the 
loftiest  allowable  flight.  This  is  only  to  repeat 
what  we  have  before  virtually  said.  Happy  her  in 
whom  within  due  limits,  and  under  the  sanctifying 
influence  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  it  has  the  fullest  de- 
velopment. It  is  a thing  of  joy  forever.  It  strews 
the  homeliest  ways  of  life  with  flowers,  and  wakens 
sweet  music  in  the  desert  places.  It  adds,  incalcu- 
lably, in  its  analogies,  and  types,  and  symbols,  and 
grand  ideals,  in  the  new  worlds  it  discovers  or 
creates,  to  our  intellectual  wealth.  And  more  than 
all,  to  a man  of  benevolent  purpose,  it  is  a power  for 
good.  How  have  the  poets  of  all  ages  — those,  I 
mean,  who  have  been  true  to  their  calling  — beguil- 
ed earth  of  its  woes.  To  the  tongue  of  the  eloquent, 
imagination  lends  the  chief  witchery.  Dry  abstrac- 
tions have  little  influence  over  the  heart,  and  even 
the  judgment  is  seldom  won  by  bare  syllogisms. 
What,  for  example,  had  Luther  been  as  a reformer, 
but  for  that  marvellous  imagination,  which  could 
transmute  the  mists  of  despondency  into  a palpable 
and  visible  devil,  which  could  transform  the  castle 
of  Wartburg  into  a Patmos,  and  interpret  the  bird- 
notes  that  floated  around  it  into  hymns  of  praise, 


11 


and  lessons  of  heavenly  wisdom  ? It  is  in  hu- 
man nature  to  be  moved  mainly  by  concretions. 
The  child  is  father  of  the  man,  in  this  as  in  other 
respects,  that  the  man  as  well  as  the  child  delights 
in  pictures.  Would  that  this  were  better  under- 
stood by  some  who  hold  forth,  and  in  many  points 
worthily,  the  word  of  life.  How  often  do  you  say 
inly,  what  you  scarce  dare  utter,  " Oh,  that  the 
preacher,  so  excellent  in  other  respcts,  would  give 
us  a simile  or  a metaphor  now  and  then  ! Oh,  that 
upon  the  landscape  of  his  discourse  there  were  a 
few  green  leaves  of  fancy,  a little  horticulture 
of  the  imagination.”  The  sermons  of  some  of  us 
are  very  much  like  the  earth  at  a certain  stage  of  the 
demiurgic  process.  There  is  no  heresy.  There  are 
plain  statements  and  clear  distinctions  enough.  The 
” waters  under  the  firmament”  are  divided  from  the 
” waters  above  the  firmament,”  and  the  ” waters  un- 
der the  heaven*’  are  ” gathered  together  unto  one 
place,”  and  the  " dry  land  appears”  in  its  proper 
identity  and  integrity.  For  all  this  you  are  duly 
thankful.  But  as  yet  there  is  no  grass  upon  the 
earth,  no  ” herb  yielding  seed,”  no  ” fruit-tree  yield- 
ing fruit  after  his  kind.”  However  rotund  the  argu- 
ment, a certain  crowning  grace  is  lacking,  and  so  a 
culminating  power. 

But  while  large  scope  is  due  to  the  imagination, 
you  owe  it  also  certain  restraints.  First  of  all,  the 
balance  of  the  powers  is  to  be  maintained.  This  par- 


ticular  faculty  is  not  to  be  so  exclusively  cultivated, 
as  to  disparage  or  dwarf  the  judgment,  or  enfeeble 
the  logical  processes.  These,  as  we  have  said,  are 
not  all,  but  they  are  much  — they  are  fundamental. 
It  is  a Christian  duty  so  to  regard  them  ; for  we 
may  not  innocently  derange  the  complex  intellectu- 
al machinery  which  God  has  so  wisely  adjusted. 
However  beautiful  the  garniture  of  the  hills,  it  su- 
persedes not,  but  rather  demands  the  underlying 
granite.  Yet  how  often  is  this  overlooked  — in  this 
age,  especially,  of  much  light  literature,  and  as  Car- 
lyle has  not  inaptly  represented  it,  of  much  frothy 
talk.  And  what  injury  has  been  done  thus  to  re- 
ligion as  well  as  letters  ! How  many  Christian 
students  are  there,  so  called,  who  in  rearing  the 
Mount  Washington  which  their  ambition  pictures, 
essay  no  upheaval  of  huge  rocky  strata,  but  think 
to  substitute  for  the  eternal  pillars,  a wire  net- 
work of  aesthetics.  They  get  no  hard  lessons  ; that 
were  dry  and  dull,  and  unbeseeming  their  genius  — 
but  they  read . They  eschew  mathematics  and  met- 
aphysics, that  they  may  give  themselves  to  poetry — 
that  they  may  write  verses,  perhaps.  With  Web- 
ster and  Choate  in  their  eye  — yet  with  a singular 
misapprehension  of  such  examples  — they  cultivate 
eloquence  ; forgetting  that,  by  and  by,  when  the 
world  opens  its  expectant  ear,  for  lack  of  solid 
things  to  say,  and  the  high  mental  discipline  where- 
with to  say  them,  the  upshot  of  their  speech  shall 


be  like  that  of  the  swift-footed  Ahimaaz  — "I  saw 
a great  tumult,  but  I knew  not  what  it  was.”  It  is 
fitting  that  the  pulpit  as  well  as  the  lecture  room 
should  rebuke  such  a waste  of  talents  divinely  be- 
stowed — a waste  as  harmful,  in  the  issue,  to  the 
aesthetic  nature,  as  it  is  to  the  powers  so  culpably 
neglected.  And  it  were  well  if  the  whole  commu- 
nity could  be  effectually  warned,  prone  as  multi- 
tudes are  to  substitute  for  a more  substantial  men- 
tal aliment,  the  merest  frost-work  and  syllabub  of 
romance  ; prone  as  even  the  religious  caterers  to 
youthful  curiosity  are  to  dilute  all  fact  into  semi- 
sensational  fiction,  to  make  all  religious  teaching  a 
sort  of  w Arabian  Nights’  Entertainment.” 

There  are  excesses  of  the  imagination,  also,  in  re- 
lation to  the  sensibilities.  That  these  are  dulled  by 
familiarity  with  their  appropriate  objects  — especial- 
ly wThen  they  work  to  no  practical  issue  — hardly 
need  be  said.  It  is  patent  to  all  observation  and 
all  consciousness.  So  harden  into  steel  the  nerves 
of  the  warrior  on  the  battle-field,  the  surgeon  in  the 
hospital,  the  philanthropist  amid  the  horrors  of  desti- 
tution and  degradation.  Yet  here  are  practical  issues ; 
beneath  all  the  surface-ripples  of  emotion,  and  when 
you  have  only  a sea  of  glass,  you  have  the  ground- 
swell  of  principle.  And  we  have  further  compensa- 
tion in  the  law  of  habit.  With  its  grooves,  and  the 
steady  propulsion  of  a sanctified  will,  you  look  con- 
fidently for  an  onward  movement.  But  suppose  the 


14 


mind  occupied  only  with  unreal  miseries  ; suppose 
that  turning  from  the  hard  and  unattractive  facts  of 
want  and  of  woe  — facts  not  to  be  reached  before 
the  cosy  fire  of  a pleasant  parlor,  over  the  last 
new  novel  — it  enjoys  the  luxury  of  tears  at  the 
mere  romance  of  suffering.  In  the  very  flow  of 
these  tears,  there  is  a petrifying  process.  They 
may  start  again  and  again,  though  with  an  ever 
increasing  demand  for  lachrymal  excitements  ; and 
self-complacency  may  be  engendered,  as  if  ac- 
tual wants  had  been  contemplated,  and  there  had 
been  sacrifices  instead  of  self-solaces.  Yet  there 
shall  be  less  and  less  disposition  to  confront  the  real 
exigences  of  humanity,  and  a fainter  and  fainter  re- 
sponse to  every  eall  for  active  benevolence.  Better 
that  imagination  lie  dormant,  and  conscience  only 
be  appealed  to, — better  depend  on  the  barest  statis- 
tical arguments,  looking  for  no  touches  of  sentiment, 
— than  trust  to  the  goodness  engendered  and  sus- 
tained by  an  all-absorbing*  fancy. 

Another  error  of  the  imagination,  of  the  same 
general  sort,  and  the  last  we  shall  mention,  is  in  the 
line  of  castle-building.  Let  there  be  no  misappre- 
hension here.  We  say  not  that  aspiration  is  to  be 
held  in  doubt.  It  is  essential  to  all  high  achieve- 
ment ; and  we  are  bound  to  it  not  only  by  Qod’s 
commands,  but,  as  we  have  already  shown,  by  the 
nature  he  has  given  us.  We  are  not  forbidden, 
surely,  to  contemplate  lofty  ideals  ; we  have  affirm- 


ed,  and  may  well  reaffirm  the  very  opposite.  They 
are  the  object  of  all  true  aspiration.  They  move 
perpetually  before  all  the  nobler  spirits  of  our  race, 
illumining  their  darkness,  cheering  their  toil,  mak- 
ing the  rough  places  smooth,  and  so  energizing 
their  whole  being,  that  mountain  barriers  become  as 
hillocks.  A blessed  thing  it  is  that  we  are  not  only 
made  capable  of  apprehending  perfection,  but  inca- 
pable, if  true  to  ourselves,  of  being  content  with  any 
thing  short  of  it.  From  the  depths  of  our  souls 
comes  that  excelsior  cry,  which  one  of  our  own 
poets  has  made  a household  word.  Nor  would  we 
forbid  a proper  concern  for  the  morrow,  or  the  lay- 
ing, with  all  submissiveness,  of  a wise  life-plan.  It 
was  something  else  the  ingenuous  and  earnest  Fred- 
erick Robertson  had  in  view,  when  he  entered  in  his 
note-book  the  resolve,  ” To  try  to  overcome  castle- 
building.” 

We  mean  by  it  the  perpetual  framing  of  airy  fan- 
cies as  to  the  future  — vain  fancies,  in  that  they  are 
either  the  embodiment  of  inordinate  affections,  or 
without  any  basis  of  reasonable  probability  — day- 
dreams, in  which  the  soul  not  only  becomes  oblivious 
of  the  present,  but  loses  in  a measure  its  disposition 
aud  its  power  to  grapple  with  life’s  stern  realities. 
We  might  speak,  under  this  head,  of  visionary  fears , 
castles  of  Giant  Despair,  built  gratuitously  and  ten- 
anted prematurely,  till  the  plight  of  the  poor  occu- 
pants is  not  unlike  that  of  the  pilgrims  in  Bunyan’s 


allegory.  But  we  have  in  mind  chiefly  those  fan- 
tastic hopes , which  are  sure  to  end  in  bitter  disap- 
pointment, if  not  in  a moody,  despondent  and  repin- 
ing temper.  How  often  do  we  meet  these  men  of 
great  expectations  but  scanty  achievement  — always 

44  About  to  live, 

Forever  on  the  brink  of  being  born.” 

Many  a student  passes  through  his  whole  academic 
course  with  a sad  listlessness  and  inefficiency  for 
the  present,  yet  with  a near  vision  ever  — in  the 
next  year,  or  the  very  next  term  — of  something 
worthier.  How  fair  the  picture  of  himself  and  his 
surroundings  which  soothes  his  conscience  and  com- 
forts his  indolence.  It  is  not  exactly  a castle  he 
sees,  but  it  is  a quiet  study,  with  his  own  form  as  the 
central  figure,  bending,  by  the  midnight  lamp,  over 
the  lesson  that  absorbs  him.  It  is  not  now  — but  it 
is  just  at  hand.  He  will  do  better,  aye  brilliantly  soon. 
How  easily  does  imagination,  the  enchantress, 
change  the  record  of  his  recitations,  his  position 
in  the  class,  his  performance  on  the  platform,  his 
consequent  entrance  upon  the  busy  world.  Instead 
of  the  laggard  of  his  consciousness,  he  sees  only  the 
successful  scholar  of  his  illusory  fancy.  And  so  he 
dreams  and  dawdles  on.  Many  a professional  man 
has  wasted  a life  time  in  like  manner.  And,  passing 
to  the  spiritual  sphere,  many  a Christian  has  forgot- 
ten the  shortcomings  which  have  grieved  his  breth- 
ren and  dishonored  his  Savior  — has  mistaken  con- 


ccption  for  fact  and  promise  for  performance,  un- 
der similar  sorceries  of  an  undisciplined  imagination. 

It  remains  only  that  we  speak,  in  the  third  place, 
of  the  usurpations  of  the  faculty  before  us.  As 
in  the  body,  so  in  the  soul,  each  power,  analyze  as 
you  may,  has  its  own  proper  office.  And  we  can 
only  be  saved  from  intellectual  confusion  and  er- 
ror, as  no  one  trenches  upon  the  sphere  of  another. 
Exalted  as  is  our  estimate  of  the  imagination,  it  does 
a good  and  glorious  work  only  in  its  own  province. 
Elsewhere,  it  is  little  less  than  archangel  ruined.  If 
it  take,  as  it  often  does,  the  place  of  the  logical  fac- 
ulty, if  it  overlook  or  contradict  the  great  utter- 
ances of  reason  — above  all,  if  it  assume,  as  many 
a time  in  our  world’s  history  it  has  done,  to  lord  it 
over  faith,  and  so  really  to  exalt  itself  above  all  that 
is  called  God  — you  have  then  the  most  palpable 
and  fearful  of  all  its  abuses.  We  have  only  time  to 
consider  it  in  the  view  last  named,  its  relation  to 
faith,  and  so  to  revelation. 

Faith  apprehends  both  facts  and  doctrines. 
Let  us  look,  first,  at  the  relation  of  the  imagination 
to  the  former.  Facts  are  ever  the  warp,  of  which 
fancy  forms  the  woof.  We  never  see,  or  hear, 
or  read,  exactly  what  is,  but  partly  what  we  im- 
agine. It  is  so  pre-eminently  with  the  poet,  as 
when  Dante,  out  of  the  rustic,  not  to  say  coarse 
and  unlettered  maiden  of  his  early  love,  formed 

the  angel  of  the  Divine  Comedy  ; but  it  is  more 

8 


18 


or  less  so  with  all.  So  is  it  especially  in  the  read- 
ing of  history.  The  personage  of  the  dryest  state- 
ment, much  more  of  the  most  picturesque,  moves 
before  us  with  a minuteness  of  portraiture  which 
no  pen  of  the  ready  writer  could  give.  We  paint 
for  ourselves  the  briefly  detailed  court-scene.  We 
All  up  the  outline  of  the  battle-field.  We  sketch 
to  the  full  the  fair  landscape  of  peace.  And  what 
happens  as  to  human  histories,  happens  also,  and  in 
larger  measure,  with  the  divine.  No  narratives  are 
so  suggestive  as  those  of  the  Bible.  None  have 
formed  the  basis  or  the  germ  of  so  many  products 
of  the  imagination  — so  many  tales,  and  poems,  and 
statues,  of  so  many  paintings  by  the  old  masters 
and  the  modern.  And  within  due  limits,  all  this 
is  well.  It  helps  to  realize  and  vivify  the  dim,  the 
distant  and  the  dead.  It  annihilates  time  and  space; 
it  brings  out  verisimilitude  ; it  enhances  the  powrer 
of  the  sacred  volume  — it  is,  indeed,  but  the  out- 
working of  its  power.  As  I read  Milton’s  account 
of  the  temptation  in  Eden  and  the  fall,  it  seems  to 
me  half  inspired,  so  accordant  is  it  both  with  the  di- 
vine testimony  and  with  human  nature.  I have  a 
little  of  the  same  feeling  as  to  his  narrative  of  the 
fall  in  heaven,  always  excepting  the  huge  guns,  the 
jests  of  the  apostate  angels,  and  the  fight  with 
mountain  missiles.  With  little  of  Scripture  here  to 
guide  him,  it  is  not  strange  that,  at  some  points,  the 
wings  of  his  fancy  proved  Icarian.  It  is  a remark- 


19 


able  tribute,  I may  say  in  passing,  to  the  many-sid- 
ed excellence  of  the  Bible,  that  incomparably  the 
noblest  epic  in  our  language  is  but  a filling  up  of  its 
outline.  Who  of  us  at  all  familiar  with  poetic  lite- 
rature but  has  found  in  other  authors  not  a few, 
such  as  Gressner,  and  Klopstock,  and  Montgomery, 
and  Hannah  Moore,  and  Mrs.  Browning,  panoram- 
ic illustrations  of  Scripture  which  have  both  charm- 
ed and  instructed  him.  Even  the  wayward  genius 
of  Byron  helps  us  to  conceive  the  moody  madness 
of  the  first  fratricide.  Time  would  fail  us  to  speak 
of  the  little  cabinet  pieces  — the  coloring  up  of  old 
Bible  photographs  — which,  in  writers  like  Herbert 
and  Cowper  and  Keble  and  Willis,  meet  us  at  every 
turn. 

But  while  there  is  advantage  in  all  this  which  we 
would  not  willingly  forego,  there  is  peril  also.  We 
tread  here  on  holy  ground,  and  even  the  poets  should 
walk  reverently  and  carefully.  The  facts  concerned 
may  be  distorted  or  miscolored ; the  picture  may  be 
marred,  and  not  merely  completed.  The  leanings 
of  fancy,  as  with  some  who  have  assayed  sacred 
themes,  may  be  more  to  " the  Aonian  Mount,”  and 
w the  Pierian  Spring,”  than  to  " Sion  hill,”  or  to 

“ Siloa’s  brook  that  flowed 
Fast  by  the  oracle  of  God.” 

Even  Milton  was,  in  this  regard,  scarcely  saved,  and 
only  by  the  fact  that,  with  all  his  high  classical  cul- 
ture, revealing  itself,  at  times,  in  a tedious  pedantry, 


20 


he  was  still,  as  has  been  well  said,  in  the  main-shap- 
ing of  his  mind,  a Hebrew.  Much  greater  is  the 
danger,  as  we  pass  to  literature  of  a more  specula- 
tive or  didactic  sort,  to  certain  grave  discussions  in 
which  the  tendency  is  to  substitute  specious  imagin- 
ings for  the  simple  facts  of  the  divine  word.  We 
have  no  fear,  be  it  observed,  of  science ; let  that  have 
free  course.  Let  its  votaries  bring  forth  their  fos- 
sils ; only  let  them  be  careful  that  they  be  not  mod- 
ern ones.  Let  them  study  the  formations,  from  the 
old  azoic  period  down  to  the  present  ; let  them 
scrutinize  the  bird- tracks,  and  the  dash  of  the  an- 
cient rain-drops.  On  our  part,  we  will  investigate 
anew  our  Hebrew  roots  and  idioms ; we  will  compare 
Scripture  with  Scripture,  and  even  correct,  if  need 
be,  our  time-honored  exegesis.  Our  God  is  a God 
of  knowledge  ; and  we  have  no  fear  that  the  testi- 
mony of  the  rocks,  duly  understood,  will  contravene 
the  testimony  of  their  Maker.  They  will,  in  the  end, 
confirm  it  rather.  W e remember  gratefully  that  for 
one  of  the  most  conclusive  of  the  theistic  arguments, 
we  are  indebted  to  the  researches  of  the  scientific 
geologists.  But  we  do  deprecate  the  superseding 
of  inspiration  by  a prurient  fancy,  the  moulding  of 
the  divine  word  to  suit  its  capricious  and  fitful  moods. 
We  note  with  pain,  for  instance,  the  liberties  which 
the  accomplished  author  of  the  w Ecce  Homo”  has 
taken  ; and  with  still  deeper  condemnation  the  pre- 
tentious and  impious  romance  of  Renan  and  his 


21 


school.  We  need  hardly  refer  to  Strauss  and  his 
German  collaborators,  whose  theories  are  so  fanciful 
as  almost  to  carry  with  them  their  own  antidote.  It 
is  not  of  logic,  we  insist,  such  shadowy  forms  of  skep- 
ticism are  born ; they  are  the  offspring  of  a vain  im- 
agination. And  we  take  note  of  them  that  we  may 
protest  against  its  usurpations,  that  we  may  insist 
on  its  retaining  reverently  its  proper  place,  and  so 
receiving,  with  all  deference  and  lowliness,  whatev- 
er God  has  affirmed.  It  may  illustrate,  if  it  be  able, 
but  it  must  not  transmute.  We  would  be  mindful 
of  the  woe  uttered  against  him  who  adds  to  or  takes 
from  " the  words  of  the  book  of  this  prophecy.” 
And  we  would  rather  say,  with  one  of  old,  " Credo, 
quia  impossibile  est,”  than  question  a solitary  item 
of  the  inspired  narrative. 

Still  more  disastrously  does  the  imagination  play 
its  pranks  of  usurpation  in  reference  to  the  doctrines 
of  the  Bible.  Many  of  these  are  so  purely  spiritual 
as  by  no  means  to  be  imaged ; they  are  essentially 
formless.  You  might  as  well  take  a picture  of  the 
law  of  gravitation.  Others  are  so  vast,  stretching 
into  the  sphere  of  the  infinite,  that  though  you  may 
apprehend  — and  so  properly  know,  whatever  Ham- 
ilton and  his  school  may  say  to  the  contrary  — you 
cannot  comprehend  them.  They  mock  all  effort  at 
configuration.  In  man’s  optical  apparatus,  there  is 
no  object-glass  large  enough  to  receive  them.  Yet 
how  often  has  this  been  practically  overlooked,  part- 


ly  from  the  pride  of  science,  and  partly  from  the 
constructive  instincts  of  fancy.  Instead  of  taking 
things  simply  on  the  divine  testimony,  saying  hum- 
bly with  the  Psalmist,  " Such  knowledge  is  too  won- 
derful for  me,”  how  many  seek  to  mould  them  into 
cognizable  and  measurable  shapes.  They  search 
vainly  for  the  sensuous  how . How  largely  the  Pa- 
gan theology  was  thus  affected,  we  learn  from  the 
context.  And  we  see  even  in  Christendom,  and  in 
the  speculations  of  excellent  men,  like  tendencies. 
The  secret  of  creation,  for  example,  is  asked  for  ; 
and  by  some  philosophic  alchemy,  hard  to  explain, 
it  is  extracted  from  the  seething  chaos ; nay,  we  are 
led  back  of  chaos,  and  made  to  see,  even  as  we 
note  the  working  of  a spinning-jenny,  how  mat- 
ter comes  of  spiritual  forces.  The  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  is  to  be  set  forth  ; and  not  content  with  the 
simple  averment  of  the  Scriptures,  the  declaration 
that  it  is,  an  explanation  is  attempted.  The  self- 
confident  theologian  would  show  how  it  is;  and  so, 
logic  failing,  he  resorts  to  tenuous  fancies,  thus 
darkening  counsel  by  words  without  knowledge. 
Or,  the  imagination  baffled  — baffled  because  it  ven- 
tures where  angels  dare  not  tread  — he  gives  it  a flat 
denial.  To  a like  impertinence,  has  the  doctrine  of 
the  person  of  Christ,  of  the  mystical  union  of  the 
two  natures,  been  subjected.  "How  about  the 
two  wills  ?”  fancy  asks  ; and  " How  about  the  two 
consciousnesses  ?”  Conception  is  at  fault,  of  course, 


here  again.  And  so,  while  the  doctrine  is  sadly  per- 
plexed by  some,  it  is  scornfully  discarded  by  others. 
An  impious  philosopher  once  said,  that  if  he  had 
had  the  making  of  the  world,  he  could  have  im- 
proved upon  God’s  plan  ; an  unchastened  imagina- 
tion undertakes  to  improve  upon  God’s  doctrines. 
It  may  be  doubted  if  the  great  truth  of  original  sin 
has  been  much  advantaged  by  the  multifarious  spec- 
ulations even  of  its  friends,  from  the  tree  and  its 
branches  in  the  Edwardean  hypothesis  to  the  time- 
less sin-fall  of  Muller.  So  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
resurrection.  When  in  Paul’s  time  it  was  asked, 
" With  what  body  do  they  come  ?”  half  in  disgust 
at  the  inquisitiveness  of  a presumptuous  fancy,  the 
Apostle  promptly  answered,  " Thou  fool  ! ” JSior 
has  the  great  truth  of  vicarious  atonement  been  un- 
touched. How  has  speculation  followed  speculation, 
as  cloud  follows  cloud  across  a summer’s  sky,  until 
now  at  last  the  acme  is  reached,  and  by  a conceit, 
original  only  in  its  completeness  and  its  rhetorical 
setting,  the  old  doctrine  of  our  fathers  has  under- 
gone a metamorphosis  hardly  surpassed  in  heathen 
fable.  What  jewels  have  been  cast  into  the  fire  of 
a perverted  imagination,  and  what  copies  of  the  old 
Aaronic  product  have  come  out  ! 

The  truth  is,  there  is  no  injury  to  sound  divinity 
like  that  wrought  by  your  poet-theologue,  especial- 
ly when  he  fancies  himself  a great  metaphysician. 
And  strange  as  it  may  seem,  this  is  no  uncommon 


24 


fancy.  Others  have  been  superficial,  lie  thinks,  but 
he  has  insight.  Others  have  been  blear-eyed,  and 
so  have  held  to  absurdities  and  monstrosities;  he 
goes  to  the  heart  of  things,  to  the  deep  foundations. 
There  is  no  end  to  his  self-conceit.  He  has  fine- 
spun theories  in  abundance  — spun  from  the  gauzy 
texture  of  his  own  brain,  not  from  the  solid  and  im- 
perishable Divine  Word.  That  is,  rather,  an  after- 
thought with  him.  That  can  hardly  be  said  to  be 
either  warp  or  woof ; it  merely  furnishes  a sentence, 
here  and  there,  to  be  cunningly  broidered  into  the  fin- 
ished web.  He  proffers  you  nice  distinctions,  ever 
so  many,  which  he  is  bold  to  affirm  are  the  ultima 
thule  ; and  perhaps  they  are,  in  the  direction  he 
goes.  But  they  amount  to  little  more  than  those  of 
the  meteorologist,  as  he  gives  you  his  curious  class- 
ification of  the  clouds  — his  cirrus,  and  cumulus,  and 
stratus,  and  the  rest.  You  have  but  clouds  still,  albeit 
the  unpractised  eye  may  sometimes  mistake  them  for 
solid  land.  It  is  sentimentalism  and  fancy  he  deals 
with,  not  sober  and  profound  logic,  much  less  sim- 
ple Scripture  truth.  The  Bible  is  but  a waxen  sub- 
stance, on  which  he  impresses  at  pleasure  his  pre- 
conceived designs.  Oh,  that  such  men  could  be 
persuaded  to  keep  to  their  proper  vocation,  that  of 
setting  forth  the  old  and  familiar  in  new  and  attrac- 
tive lights.  Let  them  busy  themselves  to  the  ut- 
most in  all  simple  and  chaste  decorations  of  the 
great  temple  of  truth.  Around  every  pillar  and  over 


every  arch,  let  them  hang,  if  they  will,  the  beautiful 
festoons  of  fancy  — the  evergreens  and  the  flowers 
which  befit,  while  they  do  not  hide  the  fair  and  no- 
ble edifice.  But  let  them  not  attempt  to  reconstruct. 
When,  leaving  their  own  important  and  yet  subordi- 
nate sphere,  they  essay  the  work  of  the  architect  — 
tearing  away  massive  old  walls,  putting  new  stones 
into  the  foundation,  and  rearing  new  columns  — 
then,  though  they  term  tKeir  work  only  a fond  and 
faithful  restoration,  we  see  upon  the  glorious  old 
structure  only  the  hand  of  the  spoiler. 

But  I may  not  enlarge.  We  see,  in  the  rapid  sur- 
vey we  have  taken,  that,  in  respect  to  the  particular 
power  before  us,  as  in  our  whole  complex  nature,  we 
are  fearfully  as  well  as  wonderfully  made.  We 
see  for  what  high  uses  the  imagination  was  designed, 
and  yet  what  perils  cluster  about  it.  We  see  the 
need,  in  this  relation,  of  incessant  watchfulness,  of  a 
stern  resistance  of  the  first  incursions  of  evil,  and, 
above  all,  of  a wise  pre-occupancy  of  the  contested 
territory.  Possession,  here,  is  more  than  " nine 
points”  in  the  law  of  our  being.  The  fiends  gather 
not,  commonly,  where  the  angels  are.  Or,  if  there 
be  an  exception,  now  and  then,  as  when,  in  the  time 
of  Job,  Satan  made  his  appearance  among  the  sons 
of  God,  Satan  shall,  nevertheless,  be  ultimately  baf- 
fled, and  the  last  days  shall  be  better  than  the  first. 

I will  merely  add,  omitting  many  other  practical 

thoughts  which  the  subject  naturally  suggests,  that 
4 


our  only  sure  reliance  in  this  matter,  is  on  the  help 
proffered  us  from  above.  So  subtle  and  so  mighty 
is  the  evil  to  be  mastered,  so  intertwined  with  every 
fibre  of  our  being,  front  the  animal  suscept  ibilities  up 
to  the  sovereign  conscience,  that  if  we  fight  unaided, 
we  fight  but  to  fall.  It  is  only  as  we  repair  contin- 
ually to  the  Divine  Word  — that  thesaurus  of  all 
that  is  true  and  praiseworthy,  that  book  of  all  the 
human  faculties,  as  well  as  of  God’s  mind  and  heart 
— seeking  there  both  the  high  culture  and  the  am- 
ple furniture  which,  above  all  other  books,  it  gives 
to  the  imagination;  it  is  only  as  in  the  name  of 
Christ,  himself  the  loftiest  of  ideals,  wye  invoke 
the  efficacious  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  all  grace, 
that  Spirit,  at  whose  bidding  the  phantoms  of  the 
pit  disappear,  and  all  shapes  of  purity  and  nobleness 
take  tbeir  place  ; that  we  may  hope  to  avoid  the 
great  evil  to  which  our  text  points,  and  to  attain 
the  great  good  we  have  put  in  contrast  with  it. 

Young  Gentlemen  of  the  Graduating  Class': 

Your  attention  has  been  called,  in  the  preceding 
remarks,  to  a theme  not  wholly  unfamiliar  to  you. 
It  is  embraced,  in  the  outline,  as  are  the  rudiments 
and  the  seeds  of  all  desirable  knowledges,  in  the  cur- 
riculum you  have  just  concluded.  But  I deemed  it 
fitting,  that  as  the  last  sands  of  your  College  life 
were  falling,  it  should  have  further  development. 
For  vou  end  not  self-culture  as  vou  leave  these  halls. 


27 


You  have  only  begun  to  understand  the  marvellous 
powers  within  you,  either  in  the  vastness  of  their 
scope,  or  the  greatness  of  their  issue.  You  have 
only  begun  to  understand  the  particular  faculty  on 
which  we  have  been  dwelling.  Be  it  still,  then  — 
in  its  relation  to  your  moral  and  spiritual  welfare, 
especially  — your  study  and  your  care.  Guard  it 
with  unceasing  vigilance  against  all  defilement  ; and 
to  this  end,  enrich  it  with  all  that  is  true  and  beau- 
tiful and  good.  And  let  all  its  outgivings,  whatever 
form  of  influence  you  wield,  be  marked  by  a vestal 
purity.  In  private  utterances,  in  public  discourse, 
in  the  strain  of  poesy  it  may  be  given  you  to  fash- 
ion, in  the  page  of  romance  that  may  drop  from  your 
pen,  in  editorial  utterances,  in  the  ethical  theories  you 
may  inculcate,  as  you  would  not  be  yourselves  con- 
taminated, bew  are  of  aught  that  may  contaminate 
others.  Give  forth  to  the  world,  rather,  as  ability  and 
opportunity  shall  serve,  in  humble  imitation  of  Him 
at  whose  fiat  the  angels  of  light  sprang  into  being, 
such  pure  and  beautiful  creations,  as  shall  be  only 
ministers  of  blessing.  Let  the  imagination  be  kept 
also  from  ail  excesses.  Let  there  be  no  interference 
with  the  proper  culture  and  prominence  of  the  judg- 
ment, no  deadening  of  the  sensibilities,  no  fantastic, 
absorbing,  and  enervating  preoccupancy  of  the  fu- 
ture. Let  there  be  no  building  of  air  castles,  w heth- 
er of  joy  or  of  woe.  Above  all,  let  no  violence  be 
done  either  to  faith  or  to  revelation.  Let  the 


imagination  walk  meekly  and  reverently  in  the  train 
of  Christianity — not  as  captive  monarchs  moved  of 
old  in  the  triumphal  procession,  but  with  all  readi- 
ness and  gladness.  Let  it  wait  lovingly  and  ador- 
ingly on  the  Master,  breaking  before  him  its  alabas- 
ter box  of  ointment,  laying  at  his  feet,  like  the  Magi, 
its  gold  and  frankincense  and  myrrh. 

With  self-culture  like  this,  and  with  your  eye  fix- 
ed on  the  fair  ideals  which  shall  beckon  you  onward 
and  upward,  our  fondest  hopes  of  your  future  will  here 
be  realized.  We  are  soon  to  look  upon  your  faces 
here  no  more.  So  far  as  the  lessons  of  the  sanctuary 
are  concerned,  our  last  counsels  are  falling  upon  your 
ears.  As  the  memory  of  our  past  intercourse  comes 
over  us  — so  full  of  all  jdeasant  and  endearing  sym- 
pathies, so  brightened,  may  I not  say,  with  the  sweet 
light  of  heavenly  grace  — we  cannot  forbid  a touch 
of  sadness.  Yet  we  will  rejoice  in  the  hope  of  a re- 
union which  shall  know  no  end.  The  days  and  the 
years  of  our  lifetime  will  soon  be  passed.  One  after 
another,  its  labors,  its  cares,  its  trials  and  its  conflicts 
will  come  and  go.  We  shall  reach  at  last  that  flood 
which  one  of  your  teachers,  and  two  of  your  own 
number — at  the  recollection  of  whom  we  drop  some 
natural  tears  to-day  — have  already  crossed.  But  I 
see  beyond,  helped  by  the  gorgeous  imagery  of 
God’s  word,  a city  which  hath  foundations.  I see 
the  pearly  gates  and  the  street  of  pure  gold,  and 
the  river  of  life,  and  the  tree  upon  its  banks.  If  we 


are  Christ’s,  beloved  young  men  — only  if  vve  are 
Christ’s,  having  in  penitence  and  faith  consecrated 
to  him  memory,  judgment,  fancy,  our  whole  intel- 
lectual and  moral  being  — we  shall  enter  in  through 
the  gates  into  the  city.  And  then  — "I  see,”  did  I 
say  ? Eye  hath  not  seen  — ear  hath  not  heard. 
There  are  joys  and  glories  there,  to  which  all  the 
visions  of  the  most  ethereal  imagination,  designed 
though  they  were  to  attract  us  heavenward,  are  but 
as  the  faint  day-break  upon  our  eastern  hills,  to  the 
brightness  of  the  noon-tide. 


